


I Ain't the Same

by honorarytenenbaum



Category: Actor RPF, New Zealand Actor RPF, New Zealand Comedy RPF
Genre: Boy (2010) - Freeform, F/M, Taika waititi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honorarytenenbaum/pseuds/honorarytenenbaum
Summary: Your coming-of-age is filled with one another’s presence. Still, it’s been a while since you and Taika have seen each other. That all change when your work brings you to the press premiere of his latest movie.
Relationships: Taika Waititi/Reader
Kudos: 16





	I Ain't the Same

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how it got to this point, but I guess we're now entering smut territory. I was blushing the whole time when I was typing this. I just pray Taika will never read this—ever. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy. Feel free to drop by my inbox if you have some specific request. I really just write this for fun (and because I yearn like crazy) 
> 
> PS. The Reddit AMA dialogue in the ending is a real entry from way back. It gets me every time.

Your coming-of-age is filled with one another’s presence. Still, it’s been a while since you and Taika have seen each other. 

Your days in Wellington as an exchange student with an awkward yet talented musician and a cynical yet talented aspiring painter with an ego as inflated as his hair has passed. Still, you remember it fondly when you can. It’s been a while since you slept in Taika’s apartment with his better platonic half Jemaine and his actual better half, which is his girlfriend at the time. His place was where most of your young adulthood happened as well as getting stoned at the nearby beaches with the crew.

The two of you get nostalgic about those days from time to time. Quite frankly, it’s been a while since you’ve seen any of them. Adulting is a bitch—and you are a sucker for it. 

But somehow, you’re both in the same city once again. You’re never much of a New Yorker. It wasn’t in your eyes. It’s still lost in your eyes to this day and racist motherfuckers crossing the same street as you never fail to remind you that every single day. The city is as cold as its people—but it’s as unpredictable too. 

You’re still the same Asian island girl desperate to make it big in journalism. As for Taika, he’s still the same artistic Maori kid from a fishing village white people have trouble pronouncing the name of. Who would’ve thought you’d meet again in one of the most heartless cities in the world?

“You’re kidding,” you tell your editor Emily sitting before you. The VICE New York office is where you spend most days, chasing stories about niche underground cultures New York has to offer or reading an oversaturated pop culture phenomenon to filth. There’s truly no in between. “Nope, it says right here: “Taika Waititi’s ‘Boy’ Press Premiere,” your boss reads the email subject out loud once again. “Why? Should we tear this guy down or something?” she asks bluntly. “Taika’s… Taika’s an old friend,” you tell her this small anecdote with a smile on your face. “We used to hang out in during my uni days,” you continue, not seeing how much you're blushing just by the mere thought of him. 

“Old fling?” she asks casually. “What? Ems? No! No,” you remain flustered. You pretend to cough just to brush away any awkwardness in your body language. “Just an old friend,” you nod. “That’s all,” you clutch your ticker notepad closer to your chest. “Okay…” she dismisses the weirdness you begin emanating around her office space. “So are you going or not?” she asks, impatient to hear your confirmation.

“Yeah, of course. I can write a review or—“ “Interview, please,” she orders you without looking at her phone. “Great. Of course,” you oblige. You get up from your chair and start to head for the door. “Deadline next week?” you turn around for her confirmation. “You got it, kiddo,” she gives you a thumbs up without averting her gaze from her phone screen. 

Your head starts to get flooded with questions as you walk back to your cubicle: Is Jemaine with him? Is his girlfriend with him? Does he even have one? What if he’s alone? If he’s alone, is he single? If he’s single, what should you do? Every question popping in your head is unrelated to your task at hand. 

As you reach your desk, you pull up your rolling chair and slump down. You grab your phone without thinking and decide to shoot him a message via Instagram on an off chance he’ll see it. It’s been a while since you caught up with anyone from your New Zealand exchange student days. All of you follow each other on social media though. You only like each other’s posts, but none of you messages one another. That’s just dumb, to say the least. After all, you’ve gone through so much together. All of you—even with Taika’s ex. 

You decided this is a day someone in your NZ social circle breaks that. Without thinking, you send a screenshot of the press invite sent to your email to Taika via Instagram. You start typing a message: “see you tonight, future oscar winner (pls don’t sleep in the audience this time) xx.” You hit send and didn’t think much about it. 

Little did you know, your message got his palm sweaty and nerves on an all-time high. His own premiere already has him nervous. Now that you’re dropping by, it made things 10 times worse. But he knows you can't see that through a cheeky kiss emoji he sent as a response.

—  
The Lincoln Centre is brimming with the film industry’s who’s who, press hounds, and the director’s close friends. You saw some familiar faces but you’re not really the one for small talk (even though, that’s half of your job description). You stand in the middle of the lounge, hoping to catch a glimpse of the director himself. You stand there with your pink flowy dress patterned with cherries from head to toe. Your hair was secured with a tight bun while you sport huge silver hoops and a heart-shaped sling bag to touch. While you were waiting for him, you stare at the ceiling. It’s hard not to cry from the thought of the film’s ending where the children and their father sat down together as a family in their mother’s grave. Yet, here you are still teary-eyed. 

Your friend’s bittersweet film left your heart torn to bits. The reason for your tears is a mixture of the film itself and Taika’s success. In your head, you say; “The son of a bitch finally made it.” You look at the ceiling as you try to keep your composure, closing your eyes as you take a deep sigh.

“Oh god, was it that bad?” you hear a familiar voice ask you. Once you open your eyes, you see the man of the hour dressed to the nines with a monochrome European cut suit and a slim black tie to top it all off. “You son of a bitch,” you sniffle before laughing at his introduction. He greets you with his warm smile and warmer brown eyes that’s eager to see a familiar face. You pull him into a hug, which he gladly returns. “Babe! Congratulations,” you greet him. He grins from ear to ear not only because you congratulated his hard work, but more he heard you call him ‘babe.’ 

“Glad to see you around here, bro,” he manages to give a response, mentally beating himself up on why he called you bro. You let go of him not knowing how much he misses your touch. You both stare at each other longingly. In that split second, the supercut of your longstanding yet stagnant friendship played: spontaneous road trips, late-night movie marathons, and abusing the shutter of one another’s disposable cameras floods your mind. 

“It’s good to see you,” you tell him while wiping your tears, every word saturated with sincerity. “I… I missed you?” he replies, quite unsure if it’s too forward or if it’s just right.

You roll your eyes hearing his uncertainty play out. “It’s fine if you don’t,” you huff playfully while crossing your arms. He scratches his head, “I just said it to be polite.” You sigh and pretend to walk away, “I knew it.” 

Before you can reach five steps away from him, he grabs you by the elbow and pulls you into a bear hug from behind. “I’m glad you made it,” he hugs you as tight as he can causing you to get into a giggle fit. “Who else is here, by the way?” you ask him if the old squad is out and about. “What? I’m not enough for you?” he sways you back and forth while burying his face in your hair. The familiar scent of vanilla and cherries greets him right after. “Dude,” you giggle once more. 

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just me tonight,” he releases you from his embrace. “Well,” you turn to face him. “You’re all I need,” you lay it on him thick without thinking. He reaches out to your hand as he clasps his onto yours. “Good,” he gives you a soft smile causing you to get weak in the knees. You look away from him for a second to compose yourself from his familiar flirtations. Flirting is truly your way of communicating with one another. Unfortunately, he’s more fluent than you ever were. These banters got you both into deep shit back in the day with his previous partner. It got so bad that it almost resulted in a fistfight in Taika’s backyard. As for you, you’re always thankful that Jemaine saved your ass that day by pretending to be your boyfriend. Too bad there wasn’t any attraction between you two—only a platonic, sibling-esque relationship you still cherish to this day.

“Your girlfriend will kill me, by the way,” you remind him making him laugh. “That position’s currently open, sweetheart,” he assures you. You are hoping that the butterflies in your stomach weren’t physically manifesting into flustered cheeks. Too bad all your hope in the world can’t make that happen. With cheeks turning into all shades of pink, you close your eyes as you notice your mouth running dry. “Do you have time for an interview?” you decide to go change the tone of the conversation. “Sure, what are your credentials?” he bounces the question back, referring to his previous joke. “Well,” you let go of his grasp and take a step forward. You gaze up at him and place your finger on his chest to trace circles on. “I’m an up and coming journalist, I look good in swimwear and…” your finger goes up to his collar, pulling him slowly to your level with your finger and thumb. “I think I’m the only one who can tolerate your weird snoring and weirder iTunes playlists,” you whisper in his ear, unknowingly sending shivers down his spine.

“First of all, ‘sexy R&B slow jams to softly cry to’ is a trip. Second, this is noted. I’ll let you know in three to five business days,” he whispers his defense in your ear causing you to push him away playfully. “I mean can I interview you for my work, asshole,” you clarify laughing at your flirting bit. “I knew it. You’re only after my newfound fame,” he clicks his tongue and snaps his fingers in fake disappointment. You sigh, close your eyes, and claps your hands together as if you're bowing in prayer. “Mr. Waititi, New Zealand’s latest indie film darling, may I interview for my film writeup?” you ask him. 

When the silence became unbearable, you slowly open your eyes only to see him offering his arm for you to hold. “Then let’s get out of here,” he wiggles his eyebrows. You take him up on his offer and link arms with him. “Shouldn’t you stay for your own movie premiere?” you lean in to whisper. “Eh, I’ve seen it way too many times,” he brushes it off. “The director’s not that great anyway,” he rolls his eyes making you chuckle at his self-deprecating comment.  
— 

The possibilities of this night played in your head on your commute to the premiere earlier. In your head, you and Taika would kick it back at a bar somewhere drunk on cocktails and nostalgia. You also considered the possibility of chilling with the gang at the premiere, the gang consisting of Jemaine, Taika, and whoever his girlfriend is at the time. 

But according to the laws of the universe, you can never get what you really want. You only get what you need, placed in a package you never see coming. That’s just how the world seems to work. 

Who knew what you need is getting shitfaced with Taika on your apartment’s fire escape? 

Even though the cold New York air was bothering you two, none of you seem to mind. It’s the beer and the warm laughter that got you both going. He's the one who initiated the idea to grab a beer case by the bodega near your place. Although this night didn’t play out like how you pictured, it truly feels like old times. 

He stands by the railings, while you sit at the cold iron step across from him. You’ve been conducting this interview for around 40 minutes now and none of you are taking it seriously. Both of you didn’t care that much anyway. If the two of you are being candid, you’re really just out here to retrieve lost time and familiar company.

“Does that answer your erm.. question?” he slurs as he takes another swig. “Barely, Tai. Barely,” you chuckle as you clink your beer bottles together. You take a swig and close your eyes in hopes of keeping your mind and body still. It's not that you're a lightweight, it's just been six bottles too many. “Uhm, next question,” you clear your throat. “Shoot,” he dares you. Before asking, you check if your phone is recording the conversation this whole time. Your anxious ass confirms that it was. 

“Okay, what do you miss the most when you’re away from home?” you ask him. “You,” he responds without missing a beat. You roll your eyes, shaking your head in response to his absurdity. “Quit playing,” you murmur while you suppress the smile creeping on your face. “It’s true,” he laughs, asking for you to believe him. 

“Well,” he sighs. “I miss the sun, which obviously does not exist in New York. I guess I miss knowing where everything was instead of relying on Google Maps every fucking second,” he shrugs. “I also miss the racists back home compared to the racists in New York,” he rolls his eyes. “They always call me ‘Tika’,” he grumbles making you chuckle at the thought of people getting his name wrong. You watch him come closer to you from where you’re sitting. “But, I don’t know,” he kneels down before you with his face inches away from yours. “I think I miss seeing you around more,” he murmurs making your cheeks redder than your nose at this moment. 

“I’m here now,” you state a fact. “I know,” he leans closer to you. “You’re shameless,” you murmur in response trying not to get lost in his eyes. “Yeah,” he admits, “I’m the worse.” He cups your face carefully before crashing his lips onto yours. His lips taste bitter from the malt, yet it remains supple regardless of the weather. You tug his lips softly with your teeth asking for entrance in his mouth. He lets you in, so you can slither your tongue inside to play with his.

He lets out a soft moan when you start tugging his curls with your fingers. As his hands slowly go down your hips to pull you closer, you kiss his cheek and start trailing down butterfly kisses to the nape of his neck, inhaling his scent of sandalwood mixed with cinnamon. You go back to his lips longing for yours, kissing it once or twice before pulling away gently. 

“How long have you been holding back on that one?” you let out a light chuckle. “Since Jemaine took you to our place sophomore year,” he gives you a soft smile. “That long, huh?” you quirk a brow. “Guess timing isn’t exactly my strong suit,” he replies before pulling you into another kiss. “Your ex gave me a hard time because of your shit timing, remember?“ you smirk. “Sorry ‘bout that. Really.” 

You look up at the night sky still filled with abundant stars even though it’s nearing 3 a.m. “Hmm,” you ponder before dropping your gaze back at him. “Maybe you can make it up to me inside my apartment?” you propose. He gets up from his position, while you grab your phone to stop the recording. “My intern will have a field day transcribing this,” you say in passing eliciting laughter from him. 

“Who knows? You might finally get some TMZ money,” he quips while getting the discarded beer bottles off the ground. “Dashing indie director locks lips with a sensational VICE journalist,” he pitches his imaginary headline. You put your phone inside your dress’ pocket. “Shameless,” you tut as you walk to your window, opening it for your safe passage inside. “What? I admitted it, didn’t I?” he defends himself while hugging the beer bottles you’ve drunk all night. 

— 

The sound of Alabama Shakes’ “I Ain’t the Same” fills your room. As you lie down with your longtime friend, quite possibly new lover, you gaze upwards at the fake constellations forming on your bedroom ceiling. This is from the star projector Taika gave you years back. He thought it would be broken by now, but he kept that thought to himself. Maybe he'll bring it up the morning after. 

As for you, you expected this night to end on a little more NSFW note. You forget how hard it is to predict what a night with Taika Waititi will give you. At this point, it can either end with the both of you naked while spooning each other or gazing at fake stars while his “sexy R&B slow jams to softly cry to” iTunes playlist plays in the background. Tonight, you end up with the latter. 

“I told you this playlist was a trip,” he tells you while you two try to sober up from all the bottles you drank together. “I didn’t say it wasn’t,” you clarify. “I just said it’s a bit weird.” Your response got the both of you laughing in stitches. For you, seeing each other tonight was the highlight of your week. He feels the same way even if he won't admit it outloud. 

You prop your elbow on the mattress to face him. After seeing you shifting positions, he follows suit by drifting his gaze away from the ceiling to your seemingly angelic yet intoxicated face. Feeling a bit confident, you decided it’s time to ask him a hard-hitting question. No more fluffs. No more terrible interviews. “Why are you doing this now?” you ask candidly. 

“Finally got the timing right,” he replies after pausing for quite some tie. He continues to gaze at your eyes as if you have the answers all along. And in a way, you do. The auteur Wong Kar Wai became your mutual obsession during your college years. At the time, he became the subject of your movie marathons together. One of his movies gave you two this line: “Love is all a matter of timing. It's no good meeting the right person too soon or too late.” 

That quote never seems to make an impact on you. As for him, it’s been ringing in his ears throughout the night.

Timing is something he never got right. Take film for example; It took a long time for him to quit acting, so he can pursue film full-time. And it took him a long time to realize that he fell for you slowly once you entered his life. You fell in love with him too soon, while he fell for you too late. He knew the tension between the two of you back in the day was palpable. But he loved his ex more. Or at least, he thought he did. There were nights when he wondered why he loves the sound of your laughter more than hers. He wondered why he dreams of you instead of her.

Tonight, he finally got his answer in a form of a failed interview and an overdue kiss.

Not wanting to waste this moment, he decides to make a move. He pulls you closer to him in an off-chance to taste your lips once more. As his lips crash onto yours, the track transitions from “I Ain’t the Same” to “I Found You.” It dawns on you mid-kiss that his playlist is growing on you a little more than you bargained for. 

The soft kisses he plants on your lips grow hungrier and hungrier. Without thinking, you prop your knees on his sides as you sit on his thighs. You feel his hard-on grazing your thigh as your tongues continue to battle for dominance, none of you caring who wins. Mid-kiss, he decides he wants to remind you who’s in control. He acts on this desire by gripping your wrists as he pins you down on your bed. 

While topping you, his lips departed yours, moving to your cheek then your jawline until he reaches the nape of your neck. He keeps leaving butterfly kisses until he sucks your skin, wanting to leave a mark on your neck so everyone can know in your office who’s claiming you tonight. “Tai,” your whines slowly turn into soft moans, making him grow harder. He gets up for a moment to remove his jacket. Watching him in a daze, he slowly undoes his tie making you bite your lip in response. You help him unbutton his long sleeve while he unties the bow holding your dress together. 

He goes back down to plant kisses on your breasts. But before he has a chance to play with your nipples, you lift his chin up. This act leaves him a bit confuse. You refuse to meet his eyes as he watches you impatiently unbuckle his pants. Afterward, he follows your lead by removing it completely once unzipped. He returns the favor by peeling your dress off for you. He acts like a child eager to unwrap his Christmas present. As he removes it completely, he studies your naked body's curves and nuances. 

You thought he was going after your lips once your dress was off. But with a wicked grin, he goes down on you without a warning. He begins by teasing the fabric of your lace underwear with a flick of his tongue, driving you insane with every swift motion. Your juices hit his tongue like an instant aphrodisiac. It’s potent yet somehow sweet to taste. It’s usually never like this for him when he goes down on someone, but he supposes you’re just full of surprises. 

As you softly grasp his curls, you can’t help but let his name escape your lips while he licks your soaked underwear. Your moans encourage him to lower your underwear down to your knees. When he got it down, he begins kissing your thighs making your moans uncontrollable at this point. He decides he has teased you long enough. Unable to control himself, he proceeds to hungrily eat you out. “Fuck, Tai,” you mew. It turns him on to hear his nickname escape your lips; desperate, pleading for his touch. 

While licking you clean, you thought of the times the two of you were too close for comfort. The times you ended up cuddling one another after a long night of binge-watching films, the times you make him blush when you sport your bikini during beach trips and of course, the time you caught him jacking off in his room while moaning your name. None of you ever brought up the latter thought. But it looks like you know now what he was thinking about.

He licks you from your hole leading up to your clit. Cheekily gazing upwards to see your flustered pink cheeks, he inserts two fingers inside of you, pushing and pulling as he continues to amplify every dirty thought you have of him. He smirks and goes back to work, sucking your clit in the process while pumping his fingers in and out of you. Every burning desire you kept pent up during your adolescence is now realized.

Every time you beg him to give you a break, he pretends not to hear your pleas. He keeps going no matter how much you complain. He doesn't care that the entire apartment building knows his name by now. Besides, you didn't want him to stop either. You've been longing for each other way—and it’s been going on long enough. 

You let him eat you out until you’re overstimulated and squirting on your bed. Once he's satisfied from making you come undone, he crawls to your side so he can catch his breath. He lies beside your flustered state. It shouldn’t make him more attracted to you, but somehow it does the trick. You try to lean forward to plant a kiss on his lips. But he stops you on your tracks. 

“Do you have protection, babe?” he softly asks, “I can get some from my pant—“You let out a soft chuckle before pointing at your bedside drawer, “Check there.” He follows your instructions and pulls one out. “Guessing the night’s going the way you planned?” he shakes the packaging as he wiggles his eyebrows, causing you to hit him playfully. “Fuck you,” you shake your head while chuckling a bit more. 

“You're about to,” he replies as he opens the packaging with his teeth, rolling out the rubber at his tip. He gives you the kiss he deprived from you earlier. Afterward, he slowly mounts himself on top of you. He starts by teasing your clit with the tip of his cock. “What do you want me to do again?” he asks in a low tone. 

While you refuse to answer him, he keeps slowly rubbing the tip of his cock on your tip. “I’ll do it if you ask me nicely,” he patiently waits for your response. You can barely keep your eyes open with your body filled with ecstasy. As you slowly open your eyes, you helplessly beg for him to go inside you, “P-please?” He hasn't stopped teasing you. "Please, what?" he asks again. "F-fuck me," you feel your cheeks heating up, embarrassed on how he made you so compliant and needy.

He leans down to kiss your lips. Mid-kiss, he pushes the tip of his cock inside of your dripping cunt without a warning, causing you to yelp. He pumps inside of you harder and harder with every motion. You wrap your thighs around his hips while you moan his name on repeat. As he goes in and out of you, he caresses your left cheek with his thumb. You feel it go nearer to your lips. Without a missing beat, you lick the base of his thumb, sucking it right after. That action alone can make him cum on sight. Wanting more of you, he decides to stop himself from giving in. He grips your breast as he keeps satisfying you.

The playlist from his phone plays in the background while you’re entangled with one another. None of you are listening to a single melody. As of that moment, the only thing that matters are your heartbeats growing faster and faster with every touch. 

— 

New York mornings always took you by surprise. After a wild night, you wake up to the sound of typing somewhere near your side. You slowly open your eyes to the morning after the debauchery. A piping cup of coffee is waiting for you by the bedside table, so it can do its job to perk you up. The thought of it makes you smile knowing it came from the man beside you. 

You slowly turn around to face him. Not used to his serious demeanor, you prop your elbows up to support your body weight. “Morning babe,” you yawn with your eyes half shut. His serious demeanor drops just by the sight of you. “Rough night?” he greets you with a warm smile. You chuckle in response. "What do you think?"

You peak your head to check why he's so busy with his phone. “Doing an AMA on Reddit for the film,” he mumbles as he keeps typing. You grab the coffee nearby, taking a sip right after. With your tired eyes, you slowly read what he typed out: “Hello! I’m here and will start typing. I went out last night to celebrate inseminating my female companion so my hands are a tiny bit hungover. Luckily, the rest of me is perfectly fine.”

He laughs his ass off while he keeps writing on his phone. As for you, you rub your temple with your free hand before slapping his shoulder with brute force. “God, you’re still a dick,” you grumble. He doesn’t mind the pain and continues to conduct his Reddit AMA. 

You sigh before drinking your cup of coffee, remembering the mere reason you and Jemaine bonded so well. It’s all about keeping Taika’s ego and recklessness at bay. As you sip your morning coffee in silence, he breaks the ice by giving you a kiss on the cheek by surprise. “I know you love me, babe,” he tells you without needing confirmation from you that he’s damn right. 

“You still owe me a decent interview,” you murmur, suppressing the smile forming on your face. “Eh, talk to my publicist,” he says without looking away from his phone. You place down your coffee by the bedside table before tossing his phone to the end of the bed. “Hey! I was using that,” he exclaims. Grabbing the pillow behind you, you smack his face with it. Your peaceful morning turns into a playful pillow fight in a blink of an eye. While you hit each other with memory foam pillows, yours laughter starts to bounce off the walls of your bedroom. None of you care about the busy day ahead of you. Right now, this morning belongs to the two of you.

New York City is as cold as the people inhabiting it. But with him back at your side, all you feel is warmth and comfort and solid hopes for the future.


End file.
